


The Left-Over Energy

by Isis_McGee



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Angst, Episode Tag, Episode: s01e01 Pilot, F/F, Gender Bent, cis-swap, single character genderbend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-31
Updated: 2013-08-31
Packaged: 2017-12-25 06:06:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/949529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Isis_McGee/pseuds/Isis_McGee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Winchester needs to have a conversation with his sister but what about shifts when he sees she's happy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Left-Over Energy

**Author's Note:**

> If you're looking for just the porn, and not the angst, it's about halfway through.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Dean hates the annoyance in his sister’s voice when she asks him that for a second time. She’d apparently lost her ability to take a joke, if she ever had it.

“Okay. Alright, we gotta talk.” Even in the dark it’s obvious that Samantha Winchester wants to knock her brother back down onto his ass. Kickboxing classes every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday after LSAT prep had kept her from being as rusty as Dean’d originally thought and she’ll prove it again.

“Uh, the phone?” This is obvious. But of course, Dean has an argument. She’s been on her own for four years and her big brother still thinks he knows what’s best for her when he waltzes into her life.

“If I’da called, would you have picked up?” She’s almost hurt by the implication, but she knows Dean’s not wrong. She got sick of having to defend her choices to him after three months of him calling. Not that she doesn’t miss him; hell, she would have listened to him nose into her love life if she’d have thought it’d be the same. But no, Sam knows that Dean’s protective streak is too wide and that he’d try to convince her to come home, wherever home was at the time, and she’d be half tempted to pick up and go. She might be his sister, but it is hard to resist Dean when he wants something. So Sam hasn’t talked to her brother in two years. Before she can admit his correctness or apologize or something, the light flicks on.

“Sam?”

Sam and her brother turn at the same time, but she can feel his eyes get wider, she doesn’t even have to see it.

“Jess,” Sam starts. She knows that Dean’s taking in the shorts that are little more than panties‒ the ones that show off her long, California tan legs‒ and the t-shirt split at the collar. Where Sam is an athletic 6’ with swimmers’ shoulders and breasts generously euphemized as ‘extra perky’ or what Dean had referred to as ‘bee-stings’ who makes up for it by having an ass you could bounce a quarter off, Jess is all hourglass figure and golden curls on top of long graceful limbs. Jess looks like the girl you’d dream about knocking on your dorm room door late at night asking for last minute art history help. Sam had thought she _was_ dreaming when that had happened second semester sophomore year. Sam means to go on and actually introduce the two of them, but Dean is who Dean is and a smile that Sam has seen plenty of times directed at diner waitresses and girls with car trouble is on his face.

“I love the Smurfs,” he says with a gesture at her shirt. It’s a transparent excuse to flick his eyes down to Jess’ breasts one more time and if he thinks he’s been smooth about it, the look on Jess’ face ought to tell him he’s wrong.

“Dean,” Sam puts a warning in her voice. He clearly doesn’t care and addresses Jess again, stepping toward her.

“If my little sister had told me she had such a bombshell living with her, she might have convinced me to come see her.”

Jess’ eyebrows shoot up in judgmental disbelief. Sam knows her brother is going to get hit and she can’t tell who’s going to be the one to do it.

“Dean, this is Jessica,” she pauses to take a breath. The advantage of not talking to her brother in two years is that she hasn’t had to have this conversation. Well, he’d said they needed to talk. “My girlfriend.”

Dean visibly starts at that and whirls to look at his sister. “What?” It’s said as though he honestly hasn’t heard her. Sam chooses to ignore him for a moment.

“Jess, this is my brother Dean.” Jess opens her mouth to speak, but Dean’s recovered. It was remarkably fast, but a lifetime of dodging teeth and claws will do that.

“You know, I gotta tell you, it’s lucky you’re a chick.” Dean sees Jess cock an eyebrow up in question and explains. “I won’t kick a girl’s ass.”

Sam can’t tell whether she wants to throw her arms around Dean’s neck in gratitude or punch him straight in the mouth for still trying to fight her battles, even if they’re theoretical ones. She hasn’t decided yet when Dean looks over his shoulder to face her again.

“Now we really gotta talk, Sammie.” To Jess he says “I gotta borrow your girl for a minute. Some family stuff.” Sam knew her impulse to hug her brother had been the wrong one. Any other time she would have told Dean that anything he had to say could be said in front of Jess, but she knew this conversation would end in a fight. ‘Family stuff’ always did. She also knew it’d be easier to come clean about this one thing if she didn’t have to worry about keeping other secrets. It’d been a long time since she hadn’t had to hide how she grew up. She might for once in her life get to act like Samantha Winchester, bisexual feminist and Samantha Winchester, monster hunter both at once. Sam then notices that Jess is looking to her as if for a cue. She nods.

“Okay. Come back to bed when you’ve got it all figured out, Sam. And you’re welcome to crash here for the night, Dean.” She’s sure to say this in a totally neutral way as to not provoke the smirk it does from Dean anyway, but she turns to walk back up the stairs before she catches it. Sam and Dean can both hear that Jess has made it up about three stairs when she stops walking, even if they’re looking at each other. Sam thinks it’s probably not a sign of her brother’s goodwill that he isn’t watching Jess’ ass switch in those shorts up the stairs but his sense of self-preservation about being beaten up by his baby sister.  “And don’t be too long, babe.” Sam sees that she’s called this out over her shoulder.

Dean’s expression turns lewd but he doesn’t say anything until he hears the door close upstairs. Then he lets out a low whistle.

“Don’t say anything, Dean,” Sam half hisses.

“Fuck that. Is she only into girls?”

“She’s hardly going to sleep with her girlfriend of two years’ brother even if she isn’t.” That comes out as a full blown growl.

“Damn, Sammie, I’m kidding,” when Sam hasn’t stopped glaring at him he repeats. “Kidding.” Sam knows the muscle in her jaw is twitching but she blows her breath out, ruffling her bangs. She can feel that half her hair fell out of its tie when she had thought Dean was an intruder. She’d fallen out of the habit of wearing her hair in such a tight ponytail that it gave her headaches; all that was good for was being able to wake up and be on the move in a fight in split seconds. It wasn’t great for being ready to think in your morning classes or sharing your bed with a girl who would hear you grinding your teeth or letting that same girl tangle her hands against your scalp when your tongue was on her. But that wasn’t the vein of thought Sam wanted to pursue while trying to talk to her brother.

“You’ve been dating a girl that hot for two years and didn’t tell me? I oughta kick your ass. I might.”

Neither of them says anything for a minute, Sam moving a hand up to fix her hair and glancing sideways out the window. She can see the impala and she smiles before she can help it.

“The car looks good,” she breaks the silence. She doesn’t know what to say.

“Of course she does,” Dean retorts automatically. He sees Sam trying hard to not curl in her fists and worry at the edge of the tank top she’s wearing. “What are you nervous about? I thought we broke you of that habit, kid.”

Sam realizes what she’s doing and stops, laying her hands flat against her thighs. “Sorry.”

Dean shakes his head at that; he always thought that if Sam were a boy, she wouldn’t apologize so much. And maybe not be so damn transparent to him. But then again, maybe not. Maybe he’d be the guy who let ghost encounter survivors cry on his shoulder and eat salads. So he still would have been a girl. “When’d you start dating girls, anyway? College stop being exciting after gankin’ monsters so you had to rebel against the norm somehow?”

“Second semester after I got here. And no. It just happened. I always thought I might want to, but…” she trails off.

“Waited until you weren’t competing with me, huh?” Dean smirks. Sam knows it’s his way of trying to ease her mind. She still glares at him though, and wonders what else he has to say if anything.  “You know I don’t care. You gotta know that. You’re my pain in the ass little sister. Which means I gotta take care of you; it’s my job. I can’t do that if you don’t tell me big stuff. Like switching teams. I mean, now I get to give you girl advice. There’s this thing you can do with an ice cube‒”

“Oh my god, Dean, shut up,” Sam blushes. She refrains from telling him that she knows a lot of things to do with an ice cube. “I don’t need your girl advice, thanks.”

“Yeah, obviously.”

“And I didn’t switch teams.” At Dean’s look she tries to explain. “I just, am switch hitting, I guess. Not that it’s actually your business, but I know you’ll start introducing me as your ‘lesbian sister’ to girls to try to show how open minded you are.  Which totally wouldn’t work, by the way.”

Dean opens his mouth, a glint of laughter in his eyes.

“If the next words out of your mouth have to do with greed, I will make you sleep in the impala, for I’m sure the fifth night in a row. And I won’t care if there are werewolf guts on the seat.”

“Sixth, actually. And she’s gut-free right now. Just some salt.” Sam feels so far from that life that she can’t even imagine, although she’d done it too.  She remembers nights of curling her already 5’10 frame into the front bench seat so Dean wouldn’t have to deal with the steering wheel and waking up with a neck so stiff she felt like her head would just snap right off if she tried to turn it. And she’d only been 15; she didn’t know how Dean did it so often still. Maybe she’d just gotten soft with the apartment that had dishes she used every night and towels that were always her own and a bed that had a beautiful woman in it who was hers in every way.  

They’re standing in silence and Sam isn’t sure why it’s so awkward. She used to be able to tell her brother everything. He’d been the one she told when she had her first crush in the second grade and when she’d finally gotten her period at 16. Even though she’d been John’s little girl and Dean should have resented her, he’d always been her go to person with anything she had to say. Maybe it was just the shift in dynamics. She’d left against John’s orders and she had no idea what Dean had done to try to compensate for that. Maybe he was still mad at her for going all the way to California to school.

“What‒”

“I’m really glad you’re happy, Sammie. You are, right?”

There’s no look of teasing in his eyes or hint of sarcasm in his tone and she wonders about it. But she answers him in kind. “Yeah. I’m happy.”

Dean’s smile is so sweet then that Sam does step forward and put her arms around him. He might be only an inch or less taller than her, but he’s solid, and he smells like gun oil and leather and night air, so she buries her head into his neck as best she can and clings for a moment. It feels like a sloughing off of the old even though everything Dean is has been reduced to a remnant of her old life in many, many ways. His arms are around her just as tight.

She steps back and stops herself from apologizing for the suddenness.

“What did you want to talk about before the ‘dating a girl’ thing happened?”

“Nothing that can’t wait til morning.” It’s a lie and Sam knows it so she stares hard at Dean, searching his face. His green eyes, the ones that nearly every one of the temporary female friends Sam had made growing up had swooned about, give nothing away.

“You sure?” Sam asks, knowing damn well that there are about twelve arguments she could be making to point out to him that he’s lying. She doesn’t want to push him for some reason. The moment feels fragile, life on the cusp of altering drastically.  

“Yeah,” he nods. With a jerk of his chin he goes on “Go upstairs to your girl.”

Sam gives him a small smile. “Alright. Crash on the couch. There’s no fire escape and I know how much you don’t like being off the ground floor without one.”

Dean nods and finally shrugs off the ever present leather jacket their father had handed down to him. He folds it up and puts it at the end of the couch.

“Goodnight, Dean.” Sam hits the stairs when she turns, sees him just staring at the couch, not even having sat down. “Please don’t tell Dad about Jess, okay? I’ll do it myself. When I get the nerve to talk to him again.”

Dean moves his head to look at her briefly and then is looking back down. His jaw twitches, a sibling trait they both wish they were better at concealing from each other.

“Of course. Goodnight, Sammie.”

It isn’t ten minutes after she’s shut the door upstairs‒ to the bathroom, not the bedroom‒ when she hears the impala roar to life outside. She can look out the window and see the street. She watches as the taillights fade.    

When she opens the bedroom door, Jess is still awake, with the nightstand light on and a book for her queer poetry class open. She smiles when Sam enters the room. Sam catches a glimpse into the book and sees “I dreamed I called you on the telephone” and doesn’t want to read anymore.  

“What’d your brother want to talk about?” When Sam shrugs her shoulders and shakes her head, Jess goes on. “Well, you’ll be able to ask again tomorrow, right?”

Sam loves her girlfriend so much in that moment for not being a person who recognizes exactly what a 1967 Chevy Impala sounds like when it’s taking people you love further away from you and into possibly fatal situations.

Sam sits on their bed, leans down, and kisses Jess. She kisses her until Jess lets the book fall closed, forgetting about trying to save her spot.  Her hands come up to Sam’s shoulders, one moving up to cup her jaw and then Sam is pushing Jess to lie down and she complies.  Their tongues push against each other and their lips catch and they breathe each other in as Sam pulls Jess to the center of the bed and crawls to position herself so they’re both straddling one of the others’ legs. Jess’ are velvet smooth. 

“I love you,” Sam says when she finally pulls back to separate their mouths. She tugs the curl of Jess’ bangs that’s resting on her eyebrow.  Jess smiles up at her and replies in kind. Sam moves her one hand to the back of Jess’ hair and gathers her hair in it when she dives back down to capture her girlfriend’s mouth in a searing kiss. She pulls at her bottom lip with her teeth and Jess lets out a small hiss. Sam moves her lips down the column of the blonde’s throat and shifts her leg, feeling the small movement of Jess’ hips. When Sam bites down gently on a pulse point and trails a hand from hip to knee and back again and then starts to move her hand inward, Jess’ hiss becomes a groan.

Sam shifts her leg again, feeling the shorts Jess is wearing slide in the slickness beginning to gather between her legs. Her mouth continues to move down, finding the split in the damn Smurfs shirt Jess is wearing. She teases the spot, spit dampening part of the shirt as she sucks there.

“Don’t you dare give me a hickey, Sam Winchester,” Jess laughs. Sam smiles at her, tilting her face up. “Not in a visible place.”

Sam manages to shrug and finds the hem of Jess’ shirt and between the two of them they get it off of her, and Sam doesn’t even take the time to admire the view because she’d rather admire the sounds that come out of Jess when her nipples are being played with. While Sam’s got her mouth sucking one to hardness, the other is being circled with a thumb, enough to tease. Jess’ hands are scratching lightly at Sam’s shoulders and threading through her hair, pulling the tie out of it.

Jess’ hips are undulating as Sam moves from left nipple to right nipple with her mouth, and when she closes her teeth around a hardened bud, Jess arches her back, pushing her breasts closer to Sam. The darker haired girl makes greedy noises as she lets her lips trail down Jess’ ribs. She concentrates on a spot on her hip above the striped shorts that haven’t been divested yet and Jess is tugging at the back of Sam’s shirt. Sam detaches from the hip long enough to take her shirt off and her own nipples brush against Jess’ thighs. Thighs that cotton is sliding down as hands find the shorts Jess is wearing and divest her of them. When Sam licks a stripe from navel to the top of the dark gold hair in a triangle between her girlfriend’s legs, she positions herself firmly between Jess’ legs and those legs are on Sam’s shoulders within seconds.  Sam lets out a hot breath across the top of the thatch of hair.

“Please, Sam,” Jess asks with a whine and an upward thrust. “Please.”

So Sam does, the flat of her tongue against Jess’ clit, and gets an immediate reaction. Her arms are curled around Jess’ thighs and she pulls her pussy even closer when Jess lets out a moan. Sam smiles against her. Jess is always so responsive, so early, and it drives Sam crazy. She laves at Jess, tongue going from clit to the entrance of her girlfriend’s cunt and teasing there, letting the tip just push itself in, and moving back to flick out at her clit again. It isn’t long at all before Jess is writhing in Sam’s arms as she alternates from short swipes and long pulls of her tongue that end in suction and feather-light nibbles against Jess’ clit. Sam moves her mouth to curl her tongue into Jess and her nose is bumping against her girlfriend’s clit still. Her thumbs are brushing against Jess’ thighs and her fingertips might leave bruises, but Sam will just kiss them when she finds them tomorrow.

Jess is tugging at Sam’s hair when her thighs start shaking and she moans, loudly and long when they seize up, orgasm hitting her. Sam presses her tongue to Jess’ clit once more as she slides back up her body. Jess’ hands are still in her hair and she yanks her mouth into a kiss. She takes one hand out of Sam’s hair to put it on her leg and yanks it over her own. Jess raises her knee and Sam slides down, the junction of her legs fitting against Jess’ hip. Jess bucks up and Sam lets out a groan and starts moving her hips at a pace that they both know will have her shaking in no time.

“I wanna feel you, baby,” Jess says, putting her hands on Sam’s hips. She sits up and kisses Sam with her back against the headboard. Her mouth moves down Sam’s neck and further to take a nipple in and run her tongue around it. Sam’s still trying to move her hips even though Jess has them stilled with the grip she has on them. She finally moves a hand and slips in past the waistband of Sam’s shorts. Her fingers find Sam’s clit easily and Sam’s breath catches. She grinds against Jess’ hand, slowly after Jess bites as a warning against the fast pace. She goes back to sucking and licking and switches breasts as she slips her hand back further, her palm against Sam’s clit and her index and middle fingertips finding the entrance of Sam’s pussy. Jess moves her fingers with the shallowest thrusts and Sam’s practically keening, wishing she’d move. Jess’ palm rubs hard against Sam when she pushes her two fingers in deep finally and the circle motion she makes causes Sam to groan.

“I love you,” Sam breathes and Jess smiles around the hickey she is putting in between Sam’s breasts. Sam bucks down hard, “But stop being a fucking tease, Jess.” That causes Jess to smile wider and even laugh a little.  She moves her mouth back up to Sam’s and kisses her. She quickens the pace of her hand as she does and moves the one that had been keeping Sam from the full range of motion her hips craved. Sam takes immediate notice and grinds down quickly. Riding Jess’ hand and plunging her tongue in and out of Jess’ mouth, Sam climaxes with a whine of pleasure. She’s still moving against her when Jess takes her hand out of Sam’s pants. Jess wraps her arms around Sam as soon as she does.

They’re still kissing when Jess turns them so they can both lie on their sides, tangled in one another and mostly nude. They’re both glistening with a faint sheen of sweat and Sam’s hair is an absolute mess but Jess pulls back far enough to grin. She places a nearly chaste kiss on Sam’s mouth and tries to smooth her hair a little.

“Sorry I got a little crazy with the hair.”

“You always do,” Sam smiles back.

“Well, you’re very talented.” They can’t stop smiling. With a last press of their mouths, Jess turns to spoon herself against Sam and reaches to turn off the light. “I love you.”

Sam doesn’t even respond verbally, she just puts her mouth to Jess’ shoulder and lets the hand that rests above Jess’ heart speak for her. She thinks Jess understands when she drifts off into sleep within minutes, clearly feeling sated and safe. Sam watches the way her own breath ruffles her girlfriend’s hair and loves her wholly for that trust.

It isn’t a full two days later when Sam wonders how she could have ever let that trust down. She’s standing at the curb outside of their apartment, with the ends of her hair singed and her brother’s leather jacket wrapped around her watching firemen trying to save the apartment. It doesn’t matter; the most important thing there was gone and that thing was Sam’s whole life.

She’d seen Jess on the ceiling and the next thing her mind allowed her to process was her brother pulling her out of the room as it was engulfed. He told her a lot of things in the meantime, about their dad and where he’d been over the weekend, but it didn’t matter right then.  Dean was opening the trunk and trying to hand something to Sam. It was a flask and she took it without even being able to be grateful. She automatically took a gulp, whiskey feeling like payback in her throat. After a moment, Sam was able to think past the word _no_ that kept resounding in her head. The trunk of the impala was still just as well stocked, if not more full, than it always had been. The weapons called to her in some way and she glanced at Dean.

As she slammed the trunk closed she told her brother, “We’ve got work to do.” 

**Author's Note:**

> The (excellent) poem Jess is reading, that the title of this piece comes from, is Adrienne Rich's "For the Dead."


End file.
